


Decompression

by glimmerglanger



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Episode: s05e20 The Wrong Jedi, Gen, Serious Injuries, Whumptober 2019, prompt: explosion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 12:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20891906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glimmerglanger/pseuds/glimmerglanger
Summary: Anakin grabbed one of the men running past, a soldier he didn’t know, one not in his battalion, and demanded, “What’s happened, what’s wrong?”There were so many possibilities, after all. He made it through a dozen of them, considered and discarded, when the trooper said, “There’s been another explosion. Not here, General. It went off on theNegotiatorand--”---Written for Whumptober prompt #2 (explosion)





	Decompression

**Author's Note:**

> AU of "The Wrong Jedi," where it takes longer to get to the bottom of things and additional… problems occur.

Anakin’s first hint that something was wrong was when everyone around him - Clone troopers, for the most part - suddenly started running. Their sudden, strong emotions buffeted at him, knocking his current grim thoughts aside. They were… afraid. Angry. Confused.

Anakin grabbed one of the men running past, a soldier he didn’t know, one not in his battalion, and demanded, “What’s happened, what’s wrong?”

There were so many possibilities, after all. He made it through a dozen of them, considered and discarded, when the trooper said, “There’s been another explosion, sir.”

Anakin scowled. “I didn’t feel--”

“Not here, General. It went off on the _Negotiator_ and--”

And Anakin wasn’t listening anymore. His emotional state jerked to match that of all the clones swarming around as he cursed, moving through the crowd. His thoughts went smooth and linear, the way they did in a battle, when everything became about determining the best way to reach his goal.

He wasn’t that far away from the hangar bays. There would be ships there, fighters designed for speed. 

Speed was important, all of a sudden. Important enough that he pushed and shoved his way through the crowd, using elbows when possible and the Force when applicable, cutting a path through white-armored figures, all the way to the hanger, all the way to an unfamiliar ship, all the way into the cockpit.

Someone over the radio yelled at him about authorization to depart. He turned it off, harder than he’d intended. Sparks rained down across his fingers. It didn’t matter. They didn’t even sting his mechanical hand.

And then he was space-bound, cutting through the cluttered traffic of Coruscant, waving between vehicles with a razor’s edge of space to spare, headed for the atmosphere. The _Negotiator_ was in a low orbit for repairs, last he’d heard.

Obi-Wan had been there, to oversee the process.

But he’d be fine. Anakin held onto that thought. Obi-Wan was _always_ fine, no matter what scrapes he got into. He walked away from battles and assassinations. It might be with new scars and new nightmares, but _he walked away_. Besides, it probably wasn’t that bad, it was probably just--

The _Negotiator_ looked like some great beast had reached out and torn a hole in her. Anakin took in the dark stretch of the middle-decks - she’d lost power in several levels - and the spread of debris around the ship. There were bodies, floating out away from a gaping hole in the side of her. Hull breach, he thought, staring at the bodies, unblinking.

None of them wore Jedi robes.

There were dozens of other ships headed for the _Negotiator_. Several of them were in the debris field, gathering up the bodies. Maybe some of them would live, if they were lucky. Anakin ignored that, ignored the line of ships trying to reach the breached _Negotiator_, and cut through, directly to the hangar bay.

It was madness inside. The hangar roared with sound and was full of smoke. But there was gravity, still. And atmosphere, which was fortunate, since Anakin hadn’t thought to grab any protective gear before jumping in the fighter.

He leapt out, landing at a run, scanning the open area for familiar red hair, pale robes….

Clones were bringing in the wounded, loading them onto transports when available, arranging them into groups on the floor if they needed to wait. Obi-Wan wasn’t in any of the groups. He wasn’t there, organizing the departures and arrivals.

He didn’t answer Anakin’s comm.

Anakin sprinted out of the hangar, dodging around a pair of clones carrying a dead man, stretching out his senses with the Force, but all he could get was pain, anger, confusion, fear. It beat at him from all directions. He shook his head, shoving all the intrusive emotion _back_. He had enough of them generated from his own mind. He didn’t need anyone else’s.

He spotted Cody at the end of a hall, conferring with two other clones, arm hanging limp at his side. Anakin disregarded the conversation, didn’t care about it, grabbing Cody by the arm that didn’t look mangled and jerking him around. “What happened here?” he demanded, and then realizing he didn’t actually care. “Where’s Obi-Wan?”

Cody shook his head. “Don’t know, General.”

Anakin heard armor creak under his fingers. “What do you mean, you don’t--”

“We haven’t heard from him since the explosion,” Cody said. “He was aboard, but--”

But Anakin had already shoved away from him, stalking down the hall. Because if Obi-Wan had been aboard, and if no one had heard from him, and if Anakin had not seen him floating in the debris field, well. There was only one place it made any sense for him to be.

Anakin pushed against the crowd of people moving _away_ from the impacted area. A few people moved with him, emergency crews, but he ignored them, making his own way. The smell of smoke and burnt metal grew stronger the deeper he went into the _Negotiator_, almost overwhelming as he moved through levels with obvious damage, full of bent metal and burned marks on the wall and--

And a blast door, shut in front of him.

Anakin drew up short in front of it, blinking. 

“She’s depressurized beyond here, Sir,” a clone trooper said, bent over a panel on the floor, working on something that sparked and sizzled. “You’ll have to go around.”

Anakin blinked, some of the white-noise in his head pushed to the side. He didn’t want to go around it. Going around it felt… wrong. He raised a hand to his head, grimacing at the strange ache in the middle of his forehead that had drawn him to the blast door, without him even realizing what was happening.

“I have to get out there,” he said, because he did, suddenly. 

He had a terrible feeling he knew exactly where Obi-Wan was.

The trooper grunted. “Can’t open the door, Sir. We’d lose this level and probably more. It’s--”

Anakin didn’t hear anymore. He turned on his heel, marching back down the corridor. All the Republic ships were laid out in roughly the same way. And he spent enough time on the _Negotiator_, besides, to know where the closest airlock ought to be.

He found it. Most of the gear was gone, already in use outside the great ship most likely. Anakin grabbed what remained, pulling on the breather, activating a space-shield that tingled against his skin, small protection from the void of space, grabbing the navigating thrusters and protective gear. There was one extra breather, fallen on the ground and forgotten. He grabbed it, too, clenching it tightly in one hand as he closed the inner airlock door, waiting for the compartment to depressurize, waiting for the outer doors to open.

Space was beautiful. It always was. Even full of scraps of metal and drifting bodies. Anakin didn’t look at it, pulling out of the airlock and firing his thrusters, moving towards the scar along the _Negotiator’s_ side. 

He moved past the shredded edges of metal, into the dark space beyond, focusing on the ache in the middle of his forehead. Bodies were caught, here and there, against the edges of the ship, or pinned by girders. Data pads and cups drifted about, batted aside quickly.

Anakin followed the pain deeper into the damaged area, into a corridor, to a spot full of debris, where the ceiling had come down, along with the side of the wall. Jagged metal filled the hall. Jagged metal and a familiar form, pinned to the ground.

Anakin cursed, jerking forward. It had been… how long? He had no idea. Maybe not _too_ long, if he moved quickly. He cut thrusters at Obi-Wan’s side, taking in the pallor of his skin, the metal - sithspit, he’d been skewered - the blood that… pooled under him.

That shouldn’t have been possible. Anakin frowned, reaching out, and Obi-Wan opened his eyes, smiled, and said something Anakin could not hear. Anakin jerked back in surprise, even as Obi-Wan reached up a hand, grabbed the front of his tunics, and tugged. 

There was hardly any strength to the movement. Anakin leaned down anyway, not sure what was happening, and, as he got closer, Obi-Wan spoke again. “Anakin,” he said, audible, somehow, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“No offense, Master,” Anakin said, through the breather, “but I could say the same thing to you. How…?”

Obi-Wan snorted, it sound like a laugh that turned into a groan. “Caught some air,” he said, hand dropping down again. “Not much left. You need to… get out of here. Tell them… To evacuate this level.” He grimaced. “And the surrounding levels. I can’t… hold it much longer.”

“Hold what?” Anakin demanded, fumbling with the spare breather he’d brought, fitting it over Obi-Wan’s face. 

Obi-Wan gestured vaguely at the bulkhead in front of them. Anakin scowled at it, puzzled, and his brain finally realized that it didn’t look _right_. It was not one solid piece of metal, but multiple segments, all pressed together. 

His gut ached. “You’re holding another hull breach closed.”

“Mm,” Obi-Wan’s voice was muffled by the breather. He’d closed his eyes. The blood under him was beginning to drift up around them, whatever air he’d captured and held finally dissipating. “I can… keep it up longer, now. Thanks for… the breather. Go. Warn them. I’ll give you… as much time as I can.”

“No,” Anakin said, without even thinking about it. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

Obi-Wan groaned again, shaking his head a bit to the side. He gestured at his body, pinned to the deck, skewered. Anakin couldn’t even see his legs. “No,” Obi-Wan rasped. “You’re not.”

Anakin gritted his jaw, fear and anger all mingled together in his mind. He was going to find out who had done this, after he saved Obi-Wan. And he was going to make them so very, very sorry that they’d ever been born.

“Watch me.” He struggled out of his cloak, grateful, for once, for the completely unnecessary fabric. He scowled over at the hull breach, at the metal pinning Obi-Wan to the ground, at the blood floating around them, plans bouncing around in his mind. He toggled his radio to a priority channel. “Clone troopers,” he said. “This is General Skywalker. I’m going to need an immediate evacuation of…” He frowned. “Kriff, I don’t know. Evacuate as much of the area around the blast as you can. Close all the blast doors. Get _everyone_ back as far as you can and then hold on. Now.”

He glanced down at Obi-Wan, his eyes gone distant and vague, though he still found the strength to argue, “Don’t do this, Anakin. It’s too risky.” 

They didn’t have time to argue about it. Anakin grimaced. “I can do it.”

“Anakin, no--” Obi-Wan’s voice shattered into a scream, but it couldn’t be helped, there was nothing Anakin could do about that, he hadn’t--he hadn’t made this happen. He moved the metal, the fallen ship, lifting it, taking it away from Obi-Wan, who stopped screaming after a moment, going limp and boneless.

There was _so much blood_. Anakin couldn’t focus on that. Obi-Wan had lost a lot of blood before. Anakin shoved the cloak down against the worst of the bleeding, for what good it would do, holding it into place with the Force.

The makeshift plug over the hold shifted as soon as Obi-Wan lost consciousness. Anakin reached out to it, steadying it. It wouldn’t do for it to rush out and crush them both against the other debris. 

He lifted Obi-Wan, easy in the void, and moved to the blockage. It took control and raw power that he wasn’t sure he had to ease the block aside. Atmosphere tried to rush out, all at once. He pushed it back, holding it, grunting from the strain, pulling them up, into the ship. 

For a moment, they were surrounded by air. Obi-Wan suddenly had weight in his arms. Anakin took a few steps forward, grabbed onto a wall, mechanical fingers digging in with a terrible burst of sound, and lost the fight to hold back the hull breach.

He held Obi-Wan through the decompression, face turned away as more debris and more bodies rushed outward, into the void of space. He really hoped that everyone had listened to him, but if they hadn’t… Well. He’d given them as much warning as he could.

When it was done, he could see the black of space through the new hole blown in the ship. He could see the rescue crafts beyond. None of it mattered, really. He adjusted his hold on Obi-Wan and started making his way back to the airlock.

Medics were waiting, on the other side, when the inner lock finally opened. They took Obi-Wan from him, yelling at one another, talking about blood loss and trauma and exposure to space. Anakin stared after them as they rushed away, leaned against the wall, bent over at the waist, and took a breath for what felt like the first time since he’d left Coruscant.

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to use my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/glimmerglanger) more, so you can find me there, too. I have 29 more of these prompts to get through this month (plus still two for BTHB) and I'm open to suggestion re: pairings and such. Busy busy. :D


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